Middlebury register. (Middlebury, Vt.) 1886-1937, 1887-07-08
A BRAVE SACRIFICE.

II WIS dlleT lile Ddlllt VI GGOtSC1N DleT.
The French, twenty hours in advance of
the enemy, We're returning to Chalons,
whence they intended an offensive move
ment by way of Montmedy. The greater
part of the retreating army had already
crossed the Meuse. and all along the river
the bridges had been burned or blown up
to prevent or delay the pursuit of the
enemy. If this was a 'retard' for the
Germans, it was also destruction for those
of our own soldiers who found them
selves bewildered and wounded survivors
of the struggle. and left behind desolate
and despairing in the face of the deep and
impossible waters.
Night comes on and silent shadows
wander along the rivers edges: a group,
confused and gesticulating, standing in
front of the debris of a bridge of which
but n arch remains, erecting itself as
straight as a reed in the middle of the
stream. and absolutely unapproachable.
With the passing hours the shadows be-
come more numerous, the groups more
compact and in the agitated crowds of
corners and goers, soldiers of all arms,
grades and regiments call to and interro-
gate each other. sounding the depth of
the water with their poles, cursing,
vehemently shaking their fists at the COM
ing enemy. then all at once silent and
resigned. though bitterly regretting that
they had not been killed in the warm,
sweet sunshine in the battle of the
morning. A fire has been kindled; it is
a point of immediate rally the wounded
drag themselves toward the comforting
blaze. and soon a vast circle forms itself
about the blazing wood.
The hours crawl by in WEAKNESS and
silence. Suddenly a loud voice rings
through the drowsy stiffness:
Down the river, some eight leagues
from here, there ought to be a bridge
the bridge of La Fourche. Perhaps it ex-
lists still. Let us sc and see.'
1t was a lieutenant of infantry who
spoke tlls. Standing upright before the
fire, which shines upon him clearly, he
consults, by the light of the flames, a
folded chart, his finger pointing stifHy to
a certain dot, the bridge of La Fourche.
The officers surround him, and a colloquy
takes place.
1T is true" they say to the lounging
men: 1.-The bridge should be there. For
ward. march, and every one springs to
his feet.
Then grooming is heard; it comes from
the wounded, shivering and bleeding.
who find this roaring fire so good-the
wounded who are unable to march. and
equally unwilling to be left behind.
''Who commands here:" asks a dragon
suddenly. The officers look at each
other stupidity, then all of them lift their
kepis and silently salute the one who had
asked the question, a huge commandant
of cavalry, seeming taller still in the
long, black mantle, which falls to his
knees. He was the only superior officer.
Thanks, messieurs." he responds to
the salute: THAT being the case, all able
soldiers. regardless of rank, will yield
their horses for the transportation of the
wounded. Put out the fire and take the
road
And setting the example of obedience
to the order given by himself, he I'M
fastens his horse, and lifting from a ditch
a soldier grooming with a fractured thigh
he lays him like a child across the saddle.
Hold on. my boy" says he, as. taking
the bride in his hand, he walks to his
place at the head of the column defiling
like phantoms through the gloom of the
night. a palljd o. begins leisurely to
mount in tie deep blue sky, but the stars
are few.
The column moves slowly, for all the
wounded have not horses. but supported
by their comrades in turn crawl along
with reeling heads and tagging footsteps,
moaning with the agony of their wounds.
AT first the troop advances resolutely and
with precision, but soon it falls apart like
the rounds Of a ladder. Already the dis
order has brought forth the command Ito
form an advance guard of the most alert,
the rest of the body to hold the wounded
OF the horses while the crippled and
the lame. resting at every stone. clinging
to every tree, tiercely. o~bstinately deter
mined not to die. bring up the rear.
a great diversity of uniforms shows it.
self in this crowd of soldiers bound to-
gether by the feeling of sympathy and
comradeship which invariably follows a
common disaster. Torn from their scat
tered regiments. their colonies dead, their
color bearers lost, they recognize each
other only by the accent of their native
provinces, and these improvised and
v%ariegated companies, as in the olden
times answer to the military calls of
Ndiult' AudLupdSHe 'GdS-
coigne.' and all the other sonorous and
high sounding anne of La Belle France.
And along the route the column grows
a. it passes, men coming out from their
hiding places in the thickets to Join in
the ranks. Like the companions of the
Cid, who started 1900 strong they
would arrive 5000.
Eight leagues is nothing for strong
and healthy soldiers breaking camp in
the freshness of the early morning, but
to these bleeding, ~footsore fugitives, eacf
movement was a torture, and the enc
seemingly further away with every steI
of advancement. Still they march on
ward. Already some of them have
thrown away all that remained of theil
equipment, and with guns in theil
shoulder belts, their hands weak and
feeble, they advance with the swayine
step and half closed eyes of the sleepy,
hewildered drunkard. Great sturdy
l%ancers. bent almost double, support
Themselves ubon their snaors. n Irunnlal